


The Morning Coffee

by harpsichord



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harpsichord/pseuds/harpsichord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wonders if what used to be Bucky's favorite drink might trigger some memories. One shot, set post-Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for beta goes to OkieDokieLoki over at fanfiction.net. Also, when I first posted this I accidentally left out the last sentence, and I've edited it back in. I'm so sorry to everyone who I left on a cliff hanger.

It's been exactly two weeks since Steve found Bucky and brought him back to his apartment. Steve had found him standing in the middle of an empty apartment in some backwater town located in the heart of Russia. Bucky had led Steve on a chase around the world for about a month, but when Steve took his hand and asked him to come home, all he had said was a quiet, broken "Okay". When they reached New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. had immediately demanded to put Bucky in quarantine, but Steve had used all of his power and rank to keep Bucky with him. They'd compromised on therapy five times weekly, hours long sessions that leave the psychiatrists frustrated and Bucky mute with rage. Still, rage is better than the terrible emptiness that sometimes threatens to swallow Bucky whole.

Today is a quiet day. There's no therapy scheduled for the afternoon, which is a blessing to be counted. Steve's pouring in the coffee grains for his usual morning cup into the dilapidated machine which barely works at all, when he happens to glance over at Bucky who's sitting at the table. Steve stops the flow of grains and hesitates. What if...?

He makes two cups this morning.

Steve puts a cup down in front of Bucky, fast enough to seem casual but carefully enough to avoid a clatter. There's still a dull thunking noise, though, and Bucky, who had been staring out through the window, whips his head around, a strand of hair flying and catching on his lip. His eyes lock with Steve's, and all the muscles in his body tense.

Damn it. Steve should have at least cleared his throat and given him warning. Bucky doesn't like being startled. It seems to instantly strip away the little progress they've made and turn him back into the Winter Soldier for a split second. Steve hates seeing him go into reverse, hates seeing him turn back into the mindless machine that HYDRA created.

Bucky's hand, which had been resting on the oak table, clenches and grips the edge hard. Luckily, it's his right hand, not the left. The harsh steel would have left an impression in the soft oak. There's a sizable dent in the corner of the table from when he had one of his panic attacks and punched the table. It's a miracle that he didn't smash right through.

He stares at Steve, the hair still caught on his lip. He doesn't move a muscle and neither does Steve, both caught in what seems increasingly like a staring contest. It takes at least five seconds before Steve realizes that neither of them are breathing. He forces the corners of his mouth into a little smile, and says "I thought you might want some coffee."

Five more seconds elapse before Bucky breaks eye contact, and his tightly held body relaxes. He looks at the cup without his usual focus, like the steam rising from the hot liquid had misted up the glass pane from which he viewed the world. "Coffee..." He mutters in a strange, cracked voice. He clears his throat and looks up at Steve, and it's clear that the mist has evaporated. "I remember having it. Before." It doesn't need saying what exactly before is.

Steve's forced smile relaxes into a real one. "You do, huh?" Any memory, no matter how small, is a victory. Steve had been hoping that it would trigger something in the back of Bucky's mind. Bucky had had it nearly every damn day since they left the orphanage after all. Or at least until he fell.

Bucky's features retreat into a frown. "But I don't remember what it tastes like." He gets lost in his own world again, and Steve knows that he's probably going through all the little sensations that he just can't quite recall.

Steve's heart sinks. It's hard, almost too hard to watch Bucky try to grasp the fading image of who he used to be, to try to put it on like his old army uniform. But the clothing is ragged and doesn't fit anymore, and it's almost like he's a novice tailor, trying desperately to patch up the holes. "You used to love it." Steve says, and then he knows that his tone was too heavy and that the words were all wrong.

Bucky's frown slides into a glare, and he turns his face to watch the rain sliding down the window. His shoulders are drawn up and tense again, and Steve doesn't know how to fix this. But he has to try. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Bucky beats him to it.

"I changed." The words are short, but his tone is endlessly bitter and there's a story in those two words if anyone would try to read it.

They pass a minute like that. Bucky glaring out the window, Steve blinking back tears.

"It's bitter." Steve finally chokes out.

Bucky turns his head to look at him, his glare not gone but less intense.

"It's bitter," he says again, and this time the words flow easier. "But that's only if you take it straight. You can sweeten it up with a lot of milk if you don't like it that way, but you always liked it in the middle."

Bucky's glare is gone and replaced with a look of curiosity. "Is that how you made it?" He asks.

Steve wasn't expecting him to speak and his reply isn't very thought out. "What do you mean, made it?"

There's a quick flash of a smile, so fast Steve's glad he didn't blink and miss it. "The coffee," he says while gesturing to the cup, from which all the steam has now vanished.

Steve gives a short laugh. "Oh, yeah. That's how I made it." He smiles at Bucky, but Bucky just stares at him. His expression is completely inscrutable. Steve's smile falters, as does his small amount of confidence left. Maybe Bucky doesn't want the coffee. It was a fool idea in the first place, trying to coax back memories with a drink. Steve gives his head a little shake and speaks. "But if you don't think-"

He's cut off again by Bucky raising the cup to his mouth and taking a long draft. His eyes drift shut as his throat works the liquid down, and there's a small sound from his throat that fills the silence. After a few seconds that feel more like minutes, Bucky lowers the cup to the table and exhales. "That tasted good." He says carefully, and then he gives Steve a rakish grin that feels achingly familiar.

Steve grins as well. "Good." His grin gets a little bigger when he notices that the strand of hair, which had miraculously escaped the coffee, is still clinging to the edge of Bucky's lip. "Let me help you with that," he says, and leans forward and reaches out a hand to Bucky's face. As soon as his fingertips brush the soft skin of his cheek, Bucky's left hand flashes up and grabs Steve's wrist in a vise-like grip. His eyes are blank and hard, and the Winter Soldier is back. Steve's eyes start to sting again. "Bucky, Bucky it's all right. I'm not gonna hurt you, I would never do that." He tries valiantly to keep his tone steady, and he succeeds for the most part, but there's a slight waver that won't go away.

The Soldier stares coldly at Steve, and the metal grip doesn't relax.

Steve inwardly wonders if this is what it's going to be like forever, the slightest noise or touch sending Bucky away and leaving a stranger in his place. It's enough to let a tear break free from his eye and slide down his face. It falls from his chin and lands on the metal of the Soldier's forearm. The Soldier's harsh gaze immediately redirects to the drop of water on top of his limb. There's a moment while he processes the significance of the drop, and then the coldness melts from his eyes and Bucky is back. The metal grip relaxes, and another tear is released from Steve's eye when one of the fingers gently strokes his arm in a silent apology. Bucky lets go of Steve's wrist entirely, and Steve finally tugs on the piece of hair and tucks it behind his ear. Bucky stares down at the cup, no expression on his face.

Maybe it's too much, too soon, but Steve doesn't take his hand away after he's done with the hair, and cups his jaw instead, stroking his face with his thumb. Bucky's metal hand once again touches Steve, but this time it's only to gently hold Steve's hand and press it against his face. Bucky leans into the warmth of his hand, and looks back up at Steve. His human hand reaches up to the back of Steve's neck, and slowly brings him down for a kiss. It's slow and gentle, but full of quiet intensity. Bucky breaks the kiss, and leans his forehead against Steve's. "You know I'll never be him again. Not completely." He whispers.

"Buck, whoever you are is enough. You're all I want." Steve whispers back. He leans in to kiss Bucky, with more passion than before, tangling up his fingers in his overgrown hair. He wants to show Bucky that he wants him, no matter what he remembers, no matter what HYDRA did to him. He loves him. He loves him with all his heart, and he tries to show Bucky through touch what he can't put into words. He's not expecting Bucky to respond with the same intensity, but he does, pulling Steve onto him until Steve is almost straddling him. Bucky's touch is a bit slower, stilted by all the years in between, but he remembers bit by bit, and soon he's just as smooth as he ever was. Steve's surprised to hear a slight moan escape his mouth, and he feels Bucky's lips curl into a smile under his own. Steve smiles back, and finds himself daring to believe that they can have a happy ending, together.

A few minutes later, Bucky breaks the kiss again. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the coffee."


End file.
